


Death's Discrimination

by CBlue



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drinking, Getting Back Together, Historical Fusion??, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Immortal Lance (Voltron), Lance Can't Die, M/M, Shiro Is A Reaper, breaking up, it's a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 09:47:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17937485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CBlue/pseuds/CBlue
Summary: When Lance and his boyfriend Shiro break it off, he learns just how long forever is. Cursed to an Immortal life since his ex won't come collect his soul, Lance wanders but doesn't go too far.





	Death's Discrimination

**Author's Note:**

> This was a quick work written to help with my writer's block. There are probably many mistakes and the characters are probably OOC but I liked writing it and it helped me be able to write something so it served it's purpose. If anyone can get enjoyment out of it, that is an added bonus.

The year is 1776. The colonies have officially announced independence from the British. War is coming, and it won’t be pretty. Lance takes another shot before ushering for another round. He can hear the young men around him cheering. A chance to prove themselves and overthrow the British who seek to impose power against them thrills them and strikes against their veins in a beating of drums. It all feels like a death march.

Lance thinks back to that night, only a fortnight prior. Shouting and screaming their own personal war, Lance did more damage than he ever could on a battlefield with a gun. Shiro’s words echo in his brain and drown out the merriment of the young people around him.

_ “Why don’t you just leave?!” Lance had screamed his throat raw. Perhaps it was the use, or perhaps it had been the words themselves that burned through him. His tears had slashed down his face in aggressive strikes. _

_ “I will!” Shiro had shouted the promise as his fist tightened against the door. “And I’ll never come back!” With his final words, he had slammed the door behind him. It had caused the whole hovel to shake, or perhaps that had been Lance’s vision. _

_ “Good!” He had shouted at last. “Good riddance! I don’t need-” His voice had cracked and crumbled over his words. “I don’t need you!” He had resolved himself to say before falling to his knees. _

Slamming back another shot back, Lance grimaces as the whiskey burns his throat like those words did all those sleepless nights ago. He couldn’t remember what had started it, just that Shiro had promised the end with a heated glare. He wipes the tears he hadn’t realized had formed against his cheeks and moves away from the bar. He wears his newly gifted uniform with pride as he goes to face his death.

The year is 1861 and it’s another damn war. He wasn’t expecting to survive that first fight, let alone the entire war. When Lance’s features hadn’t changed and when his bones didn’t grow weary, he knew. Dread had filled him before an icy seal of acceptance had frozen over his heart.

_ “Do you like doing it?” Lance had whispered against his lover’s shoulder. “Ferrying them away?” _

_ His lover had remained quiet for a soft moment. A gentle kiss was placed upon the top of his head before Shiro had spoken. “Yes, in a way.” He had spoken earnestly. “I like carrying them to peace.” _

_ Lance had pulled away to stare into his lover’s eyes. They had always been grey, but just as the first time Lance had seen him, they always shone brightly. “I think that’s noble of you. To do that.” He had whispered gently against Shiro’s lips. Those same lips had smiled softly before capturing his own lips. _

Lance grits his teeth as he hears the gun shells go off around him. Nearly 100 years and Shiro had kept to his promise. Lance hasn’t seen any glimpse of him. No release or peace like Shiro had whispered to him had existed. Maybe those things did exist, and perhaps Lance just wasn’t deserving of them.

He still doesn’t remember why Shiro had left, but he remembers why he had wanted him to stay. Remembers why he had invited him in in the first place. Lance wonders between the flashing flares and the shouts for cover if they could have been happy. Even amidst these wars, if they could have been happy in some small life together.

He blinks back hot tears that he thought he had run out of and charges forward. None of it matters now. Just an endless cycle and Shiro isn’t in sight.

It’s 1886 and Lance has to move. The people around him grow too suspicious of his lack of aging and his uncanny ability to evade fire. There are automobiles now, and Lance purchases one to drive to the other end of the country. It’s odd, seeing how things have grown so fast. There are electric things building and being hung about as if one day all of the world will be powered by something other than fire and anger.

His hands tighten around the wheel and he remembers this time. Remembers what the fight had been about. It was stupid and foolish and he wishes he could take any of it back. But without Shiro, Lance’s lips are sealed with unsung prayers to him. The words beg to be poured out of him, and with every quiet companion of whiskey he picks up, the bottle hears his words. They echo around him like a storm until he can’t see anything clearly and he sleeps. When he sleeps he dreams.

_ “So you’re saying it’s me or your work.” Lance had said blankly and unblinking. _

_ Shiro’s features had fallen drastically. “I’m not saying that, Lance. I’m just saying-” _

_ “Just what, Shiro?!” He had shouted back, already angry and already storming. “It’s either stay here with me and give up your mortality or continue your work.” _

_ The crestfallen expression on Shiro’s face had closed off, hardening. “Yes.” He had bitten back. “Lance, just-” _

_ “So go already!” Lance had swiveled harshly. “Just pack your stupid things,” Lance had reached for Shiro’s belongings and thrown them at the larger man, “and leave!” _

_ Shiro’s expression had closed off prior, but now his features were expressionless. Nothing emoted off of his eyes and for the first time since Lance had known him, the light behind those grey eyes had dimmed. _

_ “Are you asking me to go?” His voice had been quiet and tight. _

_ “Why don’t you just leave?!” Lance had shouted, voice raw. Desperation had clawed at his chest but pride and dignity had forced it down, causing bile to rise in his throat. Shouting and screaming so Lance had been the one to say it and Shiro hadn’t left him. _

_ But he left him anyways. Shiro had been the one to leave and never come back, and it was all Lance’s fault. _

He stops drinking himself to sleep and stays awake.

It’s 1941 and it’s just more damn wars. Ceaseless violence that never ends and only brings shouting and rawness and emptiness and Lance is drinking again. This time he drinks and when he sleeps and dreams Shiro holds him and says he loves him.

_ “Come sit with me.” Shiro had invited him with a held out hand. _

_ Lance had grinned, taking that large hand in his own and admiring the contrast of their skin against one another. He had laughed loudly as Shiro had pulled him closer. Lance had ungracefully fallen across Shiro’s lap. They both had smiled widely at one another and again Lance had lost himself in Shiro’s eyes. _

_ Beaming, Shiro had leaned down to kiss at Lance’s nose gently. “You’re rather clumsy.” _

_ “Clumsy?” Lance had squawked in his own defense. “Perhaps it is you who draws out this clumsiness in me.” _

_ “Do I make you so flustered?” Shiro had shot back without hesitation. His smirk had stretched across his brightly painted face. _

_ Lance’s cheeks had heated and red splotched high against his face. “Well, perhaps I-” _

_ Shiro had leaned again, this time hushing Lance with soft kisses. “I too feel clumsy and uncoordinated. You keep me on my toes.” He had said brashly. _

_ A warmth had blossomed deep in Lance’s chest and bloomed outward, shining on his features as he had thrusted himself upward to fully embrace Shiro. “Say such things and how can my heart not be yours?” _

He doesn’t want to wake from those dreams.

It’s 1981 and the President is nearly assassinated. Humans are close to Jupiter. Musicians and other popular figures have come and gone and left and Lance is still here. He’s still here and Shiro isn’t and he doesn’t feel lonely until power ballads waft through the radio that is much smaller than when they first came around. Lance doesn’t drink and he doesn’t cry. He’s empty. He doesn’t fight needlessly in hopes to die. He knows he can’t die because Shiro won’t come for him. Shiro had promised he would never be back and he had kept his word.

It’s been nearly 200 years without the love of so many lifetimes. There has never even been the thought of anyone else. Loneliness has long since left Lance, and even now he doesn’t even have that. He’s certain he has nothing.

_ “I love this song!” Lance had laughed as he stood in the small room. “Dance with me?” He had whispered as he offered his hands to Shiro. _

_ Shiro’s gaze had left him breathless and panting long before they had even started dancing. _

_ “Yes.” He had whispered against Lance’s smile. _

Lance agrees a lot with that song about never dancing. He hasn’t danced in over two centuries and he won’t start now.

The year is 2019. Times have come and gone. People have come together and gone to war in any and all orders of the manner. Lance hasn’t fought in so long, doesn’t think he could. His features are still young but he sees how people look at him. He knows the years his eyes carry. He doesn’t think of loneliness or emptiness. It’s just an endless cycle, day by day. He does what he can to help others, contribute and volunteer.

He prays no one ever knows his pain. Somewhere in 1912 he had started letting those silent worships of Shiro, prayers and pleads for that Reaper of his Heart to come back. They have always gone unanswered but his words to Shiro are his only solace. The only thing keeping him in his cycle and helping as he can and doing something that reminiscences living.

He thinks he imagines it when he hears it. The soft greeting whispers by his ear and he doesn’t even turn to acknowledge it.

“Lance.” The voice comes again and this time it sounds so broken, so worn.

Lance turns in shock, heart freezing where it starts beating again to see Shiro. “Shiro.” He whispers. He doesn’t dare reach for him. He hasn’t even dreamed of him in so long. Hadn’t thought it possible.

The glow behind his grey eyes are still dim and Lance finds that that breaks his heart the most. “I’m so sorry.” Shiro whispers to him. “I tried to-”

Lance doesn’t care about the words that spill from Shiro’s mouth when he can hold him. He holds him tightly, his grip never ceasing. He sobs gross and loud into Shiro’s shoulder and Shiro holds him. Lance has never felt this complete since 1776.

“I’m sorry.” Lance’s voice cracks against Shiro’s warmth. “I’m so sorry-”

“Lance,” Shiro pulls back gently and Lance nearly cries from losing the close contact, “I tried to come back. I did.”

Lance’s heart beats faster in his chest, breaking away the ice that coated it. “I waited for you.”

Shiro’s eyes dim further and Lance can’t help but sob because NO he needs that light. “I know you did. And I never came. I-”

“You did.” Lance cuts him off, this time his voice gentle. Not like back then, not when he was young and foolish and scared. He is no less scared but too afraid of the alternative to not speak up. “You’re here and I waited for you.” He says again.

Just like that, as if those words conveyed everything, the light shone in Shiro’s eyes. He gave a broken chuckle. “I had to work off my debt, so I could…”

“So you could…?” Lance asks carefully.

“Be mortal.” Shiro says simply. “I…. I wanted to tell you.” His hands caresses Lance’s tear streaked face. The heavy fingers comb through his head. “Of course I’d stay with you.” Shiro’s eyes dampen and his eyes are thunderclouds but they’re so bright and Lance had missed them with a gnawing ache and hunger. “You waited so long-”

“And I would wait longer.” Lance promises without hesitation. “Even without knowing if you would ever come back, I would wait longer.” He holds Shiro, his love over several lifetimes, and smiles for the first time since the turn of the century.

Batting his eyelashes prettily at Lance, Shiro smiles shyly. “Well, if… if you could stomach another few years living with me…” He offers and it is the single greatest treasure that Lance has ever recieved.

“I have walked this Earth for many years.” Lance rests his head against Shiro’s own. “I would love to live for the first time since 1776.”

Shiro’s laugh is broken and their pieces are broken. They may take years to heal, but it’s alright.

They have a single lifetime together to work that out.

**Author's Note:**

> I had one beautiful friend give me the prompt provided by a generator "Your Ex is the Reaper and when you break it off, Two Centuries Later and he Kept his Promise to Never Come for You" and another beautiful friend gave me the ship for it.


End file.
